


Washed Out

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [21]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Enemas, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil helps Clint deal with the after-effects of being captured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washed Out

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Enemas
> 
>  **Important Note #1** : I'm on vacation next week. This series will be on hiatus from Saturday, July 27th to Tuesday, August 5th. Posting will resume on Wednesday, August 6th. Don't worry! The next five stories are already written, _Tangents and Intersections_ **will** continue!
> 
>  **Important Note #2** : Sorry gang, I have no idea what happened here, or why this story ended up so long. It's not like it's a particular kink of mine... the plotbunny just grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let go...

Phil Coulson crouched, every muscle in his body tense, outside the basement window of an abandoned apartment building. With uncharacteristic impatience, he thumbed the button on the walkie-talkie and asked, for the second time in five minutes, "Bravo Team are you in position?"

"Not yet sir, give us a couple more minutes."

"Fast as you can Agent, we've got a man in trouble in there."

"Yes sir."

It might not yet have been common knowledge at SHIELD that Coulson and Barton were dating, but it was common knowledge that they were close friends, and that Coulson never, ever left a member of his team behind, so the leader of Bravo Team put an extra effort into quickly, but silently, climbing the fire escape to the second floor of the building.

Meanwhile, Coulson watched as three men entered the room where Clint was tied securely to a metal chair that itself was chained to the floor. Clint started to thrash in a futile attempt to free himself when he saw his captors approaching, and Phil swallowed when he saw blood trickling down from Clint's wrists to drip on the floor beneath the chair. Two of the men wrestled Clint's head back - quite a task, since he was fighting them every inch of the way - and once they were holding him, one of them pinched Clint's nose.

'What the?' wondered Phil, as he saw Clint's face turn red from the effort not to open his mouth and gasp for breath. The reason became clear a moment later when Clint did gasp, and one of the captors rammed a large metal funnel into his mouth.

"Hold him steady, dammit. Last time he thrashed so much I spilled some," said the third man, who was lifting a jug of acid-green liquid.

Coulson's gut clenched. They were force-feeding Clint something. It took every ounce of self control Phil had not to throw himself through the window, guns blazing. Instead, he thumbed the walkie again.

"Romanov are you in position?" he asked as the contents of the jug were tipped into the funnel and Clint started to swallow convulsively, still rocking the chair with his attempts to escape.

"Affirmative."

"If you don't get a ready signal from Bravo team in ten seconds, go in anyway. Barton's in trouble."

"Roger," came Natasha's clipped tone, and Phil knew she was crouched, ready to spring, and counting down in her head. The walkie crackled.

"Bravo Team in position."

"GO!" Phil didn't care if he was yelling. He dropped his walkie and dove through the window. Phil was fast, but Natasha was, well, Natasha, and by the time he was on his feet, she had already dispatched two of Clint's captors and was squaring off with the third.

"Don't kill him, we need to know what that stuff is," Phil said, holstering his weapon and hurrying to Clint's side. Clint had already managed to dislodge the funnel, and was straining at his bonds.

"It's OK, we've got you. Take it easy Clint, let me cut you loose." Phil sliced though the ropes in a matter of seconds, and Clint was on his feet, waving Phil back as he tried to examine Clint's injuries.

Clint leaned forward, stuck two fingers down his own throat, and heaved up the green substance. Phil put a hand lightly on his back to steady him as he gasped, choked, and threw up some more.

"Poison," he said weakly, and Phil blanched.

Bravo Team burst into the room.

"The rest of the building is secure, sir."

"Call for medical evac immediately, Priority One. Search the premises and secure any information about this... stuff. Liaise with medical. Romanov, interrogate the prisoners. Find out everything you can about whatever it was they were feeding him. Don't be gentle." Phil barked orders, one arm around Clint's waist.

"Yes sir, it will be my pleasure," said Natasha with a feral grin.

"C'mon, let's get you out of here." Phil was already leading Clint to the door.

A SHIELD chopper was setting down in the empty lot behind the building as they emerged, and Phil bundled Clint onto it and settled them both, then wrapped both arms around him.

"You're going to be OK, Clint, the doctors will figure out what that stuff was and they'll have an antidote for it." Phil desperately hoped it was the truth.

"Feels like my guts are full of cement. They fed me a lot of that stuff, every few hours it seemed like. I fought so hard, but I couldn't stop them."

"I know, Clint. It's OK. It's not your fault. Just relax, we'll be there soon." Phil patted his hair and kissed his temple and tried to clamp down on the aching fear. "Did they say anything at all about what it was, what it was supposed to do?"

"No. Nothing. Phil?" Clint raised his head and there was fear in his eyes and his voice.

"Yes?"

"I... I want you to know, in case... Phil, I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say it before now."

"That's... that's OK. I love you too." Phil's voice was breaking and he didn't trust himself to say anything else, so he just held Clint tightly for the rest of the chopper ride to base.

Phil spent the next two hours coordinating Bravo Team's search of the abandoned building and Natasha's interrogation of the prisoners with a couple of scientists from the Research division and the doctors in Medical. 

The prisoners were flunkies and didn't know much of anything, and the search of the building was similarly unhelpful. Medical pumped Clint's stomach and research analyzed the result, which turned out to be polymer, not poison.

"Polymer? Why the hell would anybody want to force feed him plastic?" Natasha asked, when Phil passed this on to her, in hopes of shaking more information out of the flunkies.

"No idea."

"Permission to turn these fuckers over to Bravo Team and start hunting for whoever hired them, sir?"

Coulson hesitated, but he was pretty sure that Natasha Romanov would do it whether he agreed or not, that asking his permission was just a courtesy, or maybe her way of letting him know her next move. It made Phil feel a little better to think about Natasha hunting down the person responsible for doing this to Clint, so knowing that Fury would probably back him, he said,

"Permission granted, Specialist. Good hunting."

Phil spent the following two hours pacing the corridors outside of Medical, trying to reassure himself that Clint was in the best possible hands, that the doctors knew what they were doing, and that Clint would be fine. He was slumped in a chair staring at the wall when the door opened and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Agent Coulson? Specialist Barton is asking for you."

Phil jumped out of the chair and hurried through the door.

"Is he... OK?" 

"He's very uncomfortable, but the doctors are pretty sure he's not in any danger. They're talking to him now."

The nurse gestured Phil into a cubicle, and Phil swallowed when he saw Clint curled up on the bed, arms hugging his stomach. He'd never seen Clint looking so pale, so fragile, and he'd seen Clint take a beating and then fall from a rooftop and break half-a-dozen ribs.

Clint looked up and saw Phil come in. One hand automatically started to reach out, then stopped, as Clint looked back at the doctor. Phil moved to the other side of the bed and took Clint's hand. Clint smiled weakly at him.

"Thanks for coming, the doc here was just about to explain what's going on, but I'm not really thinking too good right now, so I thought he could tell you too, if that's OK?"

"Of course it's OK, if that's what you want." Phil squeezed his hand and got a firm squeeze back, which reassured him. 

"As you know, Specialist Barton was force fed several gallons of an unidentified polymer over a period of approximately 30 hours. We still have no idea why. Luckily, the substance seems to be mostly inert. Barton's system isn't absorbing it or reacting to it, but obviously we want to get it out of him as quickly as possible, just in case. We've developed an enzyme that helps dissolve the polymer. We've tested it, and it seems to be working well."

"That's good, right?" Phil was looking at Clint, and the expression on his face wasn't as positive as he expected.

"Yes. He'll need repeated treatments, every 3 hours or so, over the next 12 hours, and then we will run a scan to see if it's all out of his system."

Clint groaned. 

"I'm sorry, Specialist, I know it's uncomfortable, but it's the fastest, safest way to get that stuff out of your system."

"Yeah. OK, thanks doc."

The doctor turned and left, and Clint stared up at the ceiling. 

"Clint, what's wrong?"

"It's embarrassing." 

"What is?"

"The treatment. The stuff they're giving me to dissolve the plastic, they have to pump it into my ass."

"The nurses have seen it all before, Clint." 

"I know, but that doesn't make it any less embarrassing when I get a raging hard-on when they wheel in the bag on a pole, now, does it?" 

"Raging hard-on?" 

"Yeah, well," Clint's ears turned pink.

"Hey, that's really very common."

"What would you know about it?"

"Clint, I'm a 45-year-old gay man, I know a thing or two about enemas, and the physiological reactions to them."

"Oh."

"Look, I'm going to go talk to the doctor about something, I'll be right back, OK?"

"Sure..." Clint didn't look as sure as he sounded, and seemed reluctant to let go of Phil's hand. Phil smiled and leaned down to kiss him gently. "I'll be right back, I promise."

True to his word, Phil was back within five minutes.

"I talked to the doctor and the nurse. If you want to, they'll let me take you home and do the treatments there. If you'd be more comfortable."

"To your place?"

"Yes."

"And you'd..."

"Yes. I know how to do it."

"I'm sure you do, it's just..."

"It's completely up to you Clint, if you'd rather stay here and have the nurses do it..."

"No! Uh... no, I guess I'd rather you, that is if you don't mind. I mean it's kinda... we've only been going out a few months." Clint finished, hoping Phil would understand what he was trying to say.

"It's a pretty intimate thing, I know. I'm OK with it if you are."

"Yeah... yeah, I guess. OK. Thanks Phil."

"I'll get the stuff we need from the nurse, and I'll get someone to bring you some clothes, and I'll arrange for a lift to my place. It shouldn't take very long to get everything ready, so just sit tight for a few more minutes, OK?"

"Yeah, no problem. I wasn't going anywhere anyway." Clint grinned a weak version of his usual cocky grin, but then wrapped his arms around his stomach again.

Half an hour later they were stepping into Phil's apartment, loaded down with medical supplies and a half-dozen bottles of Gatorade.

"Why don't you go lie down in the bedroom. I'll get this stuff sorted out, and I'll be there soon. And here, take one of these with you," Phil said, tossing him one of the bottles of Gatorade.

"You know, after this I might not like this stuff very much any more." 

Phil put four of the remaining bottles into the fridge and then carried the enema equipment into the bathroom. He stripped down to his shorts and tossed his clothes in the hamper. He grabbed a couple of fluffy towels from the closet and went into the bedroom. Clint was lying on his side on the bed, naked and curled half-way into a fetal position, arms around his middle, again.

"Hey, I figured it'd be easier if I just got naked."

"Sure. I'm just going to put on some sweats." Phil grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and a navy t-shirt out of a drawer and pulled them on.

"So, do you want to do this in here, lying on the bed? It'll be more comfortable than the bathroom floor."

"Is that OK?"

"Absolutely. Here, let me put these towels down in case we spill a little." Clint moved over to allow Phil to spread the towels on top of the sheet.

"This really isn't what I'd hoped to be doing next time I was in your bed."

"No, me either. Once you're feeling better, I'll try to arrange a couple of days leave for us, OK?"

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." 

"That'd be great. Phil? Thanks. For this, for rescuing me, for everything."

"Hey, I love you, remember?"

"Yeah. I love you too." Clint smiled. It was the first time he'd answered that way, and it made him feel warm and happy. 

"I'm going to go mix up the stuff. Drink your Gatorade and try to relax, OK?"

"Yes boss."

Phil went back to the bathroom and mixed up the enema solution, carefully following the doctor's instructions. He carried the 4-quart bucket with attached hose back into the bedroom, and had to put his alarm clock and the book he was reading on the floor to make room for it on the night-table. Clint had already rolled over on his side and hitched one knee up. Phil put his hand gently on Clint's shoulder.

"Ready?"

"I guess."

Phil opened the bedside table drawer, took out a bottle of lube, and flipped the cap. Clint made a small noise.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Clint was not about to admit that his dick had twitched and started to get hard just from the noise of the lube bottle being opened. No he was not.

Phil lubed the enema nozzle and one of his fingers. He put the bottle back, and then put his hand on Clint's ass and squeezed slightly before gently rubbing his finger over Clint's hole. Clint flinched.

"Is this OK? Would you rather I didn't?"

"No, no, it's good. I'm just... it's a little sore from last time, still."

"I'll be as gentle as I can." 

"Phil?"

"Yes?"

"The stuff, when it goes in, it kinda burns. So don't be surprised if I swear a lot. Or yell a little."

"Thank you for warning me. But you tell me if it's worse that it was last time in Medical, OK? Or if there's any sharp pain, or you feel light-headed or like you're going to pass out. Promise me, Clint."

"I will. I promise."

Phil had been gently probing Clint's ass with his finger while they were talking, and now he withdrew it. He slowly inserted the enema nozzle in its place.

"OK?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to start the flow now. I'll start really slow. You tell me if you need me to stop, for any reason, OK?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

Phil loosened the clamp on the tube just a little, and the solution started to flow from the bucket. Clint stiffened up, clenched his buttocks, and hissed through his teeth.

"Are you OK Clint?"

"Yeah. Burns."

Phil wished there was something more he could do to make this easier on Clint, but he knew he was already doing everything he could. He wished he had a free hand that Clint could hold and squeeze, but he needed one to steady the nozzle and one to control the clamp. 

"You're doing great. I'm going to let it flow a little faster now, OK?"

"Yeah, OK."

Phil loosened the clamp another few notches. At first everything was fine, and then Clint tensed up and shouted, 

"Fuck!"

Phil closed the clamp immediately.

"Clint?"

"Cramp."

Phil sighed in relief. 

"Let me just..." He let go of the (now closed) clamp and shifted very slightly on the bed so that he could more easily reach over Clint's hip. He put his free hand on Clint's chest, and then slid it slowly down to his belly.

"Is this OK?"

Clint's jaw was clamped tight. He didn't even try to speak, he just nodded. Phil started to gently massage Clint's abdomen, feeling the unnatural roundness and softness where there was usually nothing but skin stretched tight over muscle. 

"Is this helping?"

"A little, yeah. Feels good just to have you touching me."

"Good."

As he rubbed in wider circles, the back of his hand brushed against Clint's cock, which was hard and straining up against his swollen belly.

Clint gasped, and then said very quietly, "Sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Clint. It's pretty normal to get a hard-on when there's half-a-gallon of liquid pressing on your prostate."

"Half-a-gallon?"

"You've taken almost two quarts. You're doing great. The doctor said you need to try to take as much as you can each time, though. It'll dissolve more of the plastic that way."

"Yeah, I know. That's what the nurse said too. Give me another minute, and you can start again."

"OK." Phil continued to rub Clint's belly, feeling him relax. After a minute he asked, "Ready to continue?"

"Yeah."

Phil took his hand off Clint's belly and Clint couldn't help but make a tiny sad noise that wrenched Phil's heart. He picked up the clamped hose and loosened it a little,

"I'm going to start really slow. Tell me if you need to stop again."

"Uh huh."

After a minute Phil loosened the clamp a tiny bit more. Again, things were fine at first, but then Clint groaned.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, just... can't take much more. It's getting really... fuck."

Phil looked at the bucket to see how much was left. Clint had taken almost 3 quarts.

"See if you can take just a little more, OK?"

"OK." Clint said, and then was quiet except for the harsh sound of his breathing as he tried to deal with the pain and the pressure.

"Phil?"

"Want me to stop it now?"

"Yes please."

Phil clamped the hose immediately and moved his hand back to Clint's chest. Clint grabbed it with one of his and held on tight.

"Clint are you OK?"

"Yeah. It just kinda hurts."

"More than last time?"

"No. Not really. It's just that last time... I was in Medical."

Phil nodded his understanding even though Clint couldn't see. It was easier to be strong and stoic in medical with nurses and doctors who were practically strangers. Here, in Phil's bed, with a gentle hand on him, he didn't have to put up as much of a brave face.

"I'm going to take the nozzle out now, are you ready?"

"Yeah. Go ahead." 

Phil slowly slipped the nozzle out and let it and the coiled tubing rest on the corner of one of the towels. He got up off the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much, and went around to the other side. He climbed back onto the bed and inched over to Clint.

"Do you want me to rub your belly some more? Or would you like me to take care of this?" He asked, very gently cupping Clint's hard dick.

"I..." Clint squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, "sorry."

Phil lay down on his side on the bed so that they were nose-to-nose.

"Clint, look at me, please?"

Clint opened his eyes.

"What happened to you wasn't your fault, it was scary and it hurt. This is no fun for you and it hurts. All I want to do is make you feel a little bit better if I can, so whatever you want, whatever you need, I want you to tell me, OK? If you want me to leave you alone and go sit in the other room I'll do that. If you want me to lie here and hold your hand I'll do that. If you want me to rub your belly I'll do that, and if you want me to get you off I'll do that."

Clint closed his eyes again for a second then forced them back open, wanting at very least not to hide from Phil. "I just... I can't..."

"Clint, if our positions were reversed, if I had been captured, and you were helping me, what would you be feeling?"

"I'd be scared out of my mind."

Phil was surprised by Clint's brutal honesty.

"I was scared out of my mind when you were captured. I was scared out of my mind for the 30 hours it took us to find you. I was scared out of my mind when I saw you tied to that chair and I was scared out of my mind when they poured that stuff down your throat. I was scared out of my mind while I waited in Medical for the doctors to tell me you were going to be OK. But now I'm not scared any more because I know you're going to be fine. And I just want to help you get through this, in any way I can."

Clint took a deep breath.

"Phil, I'd like you to rub my belly for a bit. And then I'd like you to get me off. And then I'd like you to hold my hand."

Phil felt a smile spread across his face, and he leaned in to kiss Clint softly.

"How do you feel about rolling onto your back?"

"OK." Very slowly and cautiously, with a certain amount of groaning, Clint rolled onto his back. His inflated abdomen looked even more abnormal, Clint almost didn't look like himself with a paunch. Phil put his hand on it and the faint slosh as he rubbed gently was strangely reassuring. Clint's dick was still hard and now that he was lying on his back, it stood stiffly up, curving slightly towards his stomach. Phil moved his hand off Clint's abdomen and ran his fingers very lightly up the underside of Clint's dick.

Clint gasped.

"Is my hand enough, or would you like my mouth?"

"Jesus Phil," Clint said with a harsh breath. "Your hand's fine. Really light. It's not going to take much."

Phil ran his fingers lightly up and down a couple more times then closed his hand in a very loose fist and pulled slowly up over the head of Clint's dick. Clint moaned.

"Yeah, God yeah, just like that."

Phil did it again, just barely skimming Clint's skin with his fingertips, which drew another moan. Sure enough it only took a few more strokes and Clint was spurting weakly onto his belly. Phil made a mental note to make sure Clint drank an entire bottle of Gatorade as soon as he was done in the bathroom.

"OK?"

"More than OK. Thanks. I'm going to need to get up soon." Phil made another mental note, this time to put the clock somewhere he could see it so that he could keep an eye on how long Clint had retained the enema. The doctor had said that the more Clint could take and the longer he could hold it, the more of the plastic in Clint's guts would be flushed out.

"I was supposed to hold your hand next, remember?"

"Yeah," Clint gave a little laugh, and then groaned loudly as the liquid in his abdomen sloshed. Phil wiped his hand on the towel and took Clint's and squeezed. Clint squeezed back.

"Thanks."

"Hell, Clint, I'd be willing to do this for you even if we weren't going out."

"Really?"

"Sure, why not? You're my friend, you're in pain and in need. We'd seen each other naked before we started dating."

"Not including the hand job, though."

"I don't see why not... I mean, I can't say for sure, obviously, because this didn't happen before we started dating, but in these exact circumstances? Yeah, I probably would help out a friend."

"Huh," said Clint, and he seemed about to say something more when he went rigid. "I need to go now."

"OK, take it easy, move slowly."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to be moving fast any time soon."

Phil got up off the bed and came around to Clint's side as he was levering himself up into a sitting position. Phil put an arm around his back and crouched a little to help him stand.

"Put your arm around me. Good, small steps."

They inched their way to the bathroom and Phil helped Clint lower himself onto the toilet.

"I'll be right outside. If you need anything just yell."

"Yeah. Go."

Phil went, and closed the bathroom door behind him. Listening carefully for Clint's call, he hurried to the kitchen and got a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge, then he headed for the linen closet and got a stack of clean towels and a couple of fresh sheets, just in case. He piled the sheets and towels on the dresser, then re-arranged the bedside table so that there was room for the lamp, the Gatorade bottle, the alarm clock, and the enema bucket, which he moved to the corner of the bedroom floor, for now. Then he went back out into the hall and listened at the bathroom door. He heard the toilet flush, which he figured was a good sign, so he went back into the bedroom. He turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light. He fluffed the pillows. He heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Clint coming back into the bedroom, shuffling and looking like the fourth day of a three day pass.

"You OK?"

"As OK as I'm going to be for a while, I guess."

"Here, sit down. Or lie down if you want to, but you should drink this first." Phil handed Clint the bottle of Gatorade. Clint took it and drained half of it, then looked at the bottle, surprised.

"You're dehydrated."

"Yeah, I guess."

Phil picked up the enema bucket and took it to the bathroom. He wrinkled his nose at the faint smell of... formaldehyde? Something chemical, anyway. 'Poor Clint,' he thought. 'Imagine having that stuff pouring out of your ass.'

He headed back into the bedroom to find Clint had finished his drink and was snuggled down in the pillows. 

"You should try to get some sleep. I bet you didn't sleep at all while you were being held."

"No, not really. Would.... would you stay with me for a little bit?"

"Of course." Phil hurried around to the other side of the bed and climbed in. "Of course I'll stay with you for as long as you want. Here, let me just..." He reached across Clint's body to grab the alarm clock and set it for two-and-a-half hours. Then he settled down and pulled Clint into his arms.

"I may not have slept a whole lot while you were being held, either."

Clint snuggled close, resting his head on Phil's chest and draping an arm across his stomach.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Get some sleep."

"Yes boss." And Clint sighed, and slept.

Phil woke to the insistent beeping of the alarm clock. Waking up with Clint in his arms was still new and thrilling, so for a minute he just lay there, holding the warm body tightly against his.

"You gonna shut that off?" asked Clint, mumbling into Phil's chest.

"It's on your side."

"You don't want me to turn it off, not if you still want it to work afterwards."

Phil reached across Clint's body and snagged the clock off the bedside table. If he was going to stick to the schedule ordered by the doctor, he needed to get up and get ready for Clint's next treatment, much as he'd rather lie here snuggled up warm and comfortable. Then it occurred to him that the enema might be easier on Clint if he was drowsy or half-asleep.

"You stay here. Go back to sleep if you can. I'll get everything ready."

Phil padded into the bathroom, pissed, and then thoroughly cleaned the enema equipment. He mixed up a new batch of the solution that dissolved the polymer, and carried the bucket back into the bedroom. He put it on the bedside table, re-arranged the clock once again so he'd be able to see it properly, and sat down on the bed. 

Clint was snuggled into the pillows, snoring gently. Phil put a hand on his back and shook him slightly.

"Clint. I'm going to start now, OK?"

"Mmmph."

"Clint, I need you to tell me you understand, and that you're OK with me doing this."

"Knock yourself out," came the mumble.

Phil flipped the cap on the lube and, as before, coated his finger and the enema nozzle. He gently probed between Clint's ass cheeks, remembering that Clint had said he was sore the last time. Working very slowly and gently, he worked a fingertip into Clint's ass. Clint groaned and stretched, giving him better access.

"That's good," Phil said, stroking Clint's back with his other hand while it was still free. Clint pushed back into the touch, and Phil dipped his finger in a little deeper. Clint mumbled something that Phil couldn't catch.

"Clint, are you OK?"

"Sore." Clint said, turning his face out of the pillow.

"I know, love, I'm sorry. I'm trying to be as gentle as I can."

Clint buried his face in the pillow again, and Phil tried not to feel like he was failing his lover. He kept stroking Clint's back as he worked one finger into Clint's ass. Theoretically, Clint should still be a little bit loose from earlier, but the irritation and inflammation caused by the chemicals in the enema were working against him. Phil slid his finger out, and leaned down to kiss Clint's shoulder.

"OK if I start now?"

"Yeah." Clint sounded resigned, and who could blame him. Phil consoled himself with the thought that Clint was happier, more relaxed, and more comfortable here that he would have been in Medical, with a nurse doing this to him. 

Phil uncoiled the hose and double-checked the clamp, and then as carefully as he could, started to insert the nozzle into Clint's ass. Clint flinched, and Phil stroked his back some more.

"Sorry, love."

"S'okay. S'not your fault, Phil. I know you're being as gentle as you can. It's just really, really sore."

"You're doing great. You're going to be fine." Phil kept up the stroking for a few seconds more, reluctant to release the clamp and start the flow of chemicals into Clint. He took a breath to steel himself, and did what he had to do.

Phil released the clamp slowly, just by one click, starting the flow at a trickle. Clint gasped.

"Clint?"

"Burns." Clint said, hands clutching at the pillow, then, "It's OK, keep going."

Phil opened the clamp a little further and watched as the level of liquid in the bucket inched lower. Clint was breathing in harsh gasps, but apart from that he seemed to be OK. Keeping the flow at a lower rate seemed to be working to avoid the cramps he had the first time.

"How are you doing, Clint?" asked Phil after a minute.

"Fucking awesome," said Clint bitterly, then, "Sorry. It's just... it fucking hurts. There's nothing wrong, it's OK. It's just... a little worse than last time, you know, more sore, more burn, more stretch, more pressure... it's... Oh God."

Clint's whole body went completely rigid and Phil stopped the flow immediately. He didn't ask, didn't say anything, just waited. Clint blew out a breath. Then another. Then,

"Keep going."

"Clint."

"I have to do this, so let's get it over with. I can take it. Keep going."

"OK," said Phil, and started the flow again, but at its lowest possible setting. He checked the level of liquid in the bucket. Clint had taken almost the entire four quarts this time. That either meant that there was more room because more of the polymer had dissolved, or that his guts were stretching in response. Both were entirely possible, so Phil fell back on the doctor's instructions, "Give him as much as he can take, and get him to hold it for as long as he can."

When the bucket was nearly empty, Phil clamped the hose. 

"You took all of it, Clint, you did great. Just great. I'm going to take the nozzle out now. Try to relax."

Phil put one hand on Clint's hip and squeezed gently, trying to be reassuring. He withdrew the nozzle as gently as he could. As it slipped out of Clint's body, he gasped and went very tense again. 

"Clint?"

Phil didn't get an answer. He dropped the hose on the bed and moved quickly, standing up and going around to where he could see Clint's face. His eyes were screwed tight shut. Phil crawled onto the bed.

"Clint, please open your eyes and tell me that you're OK." Phil let enough worry bleed out into his voice that Clint gasped and opened his eyes.

"I don't think I can hold it very long."

"OK." Relieved that he knew what the problem was, Phil lay down on the bed facing Clint. 

"It's OK, you're doing great." Phil shot a glance at the clock and noted the time. "Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No. Just... just stay. Just stay here with me."

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere." Phil laid a gentle hand on Clint's shoulder. "Is that OK?"

"Yeah. Course. Always OK for you to touch me."

"Good to know."

Clint screwed his eyes shut again as a tremor went through him.

"Clint?"

"Hurts." 

Phil stroked Clint's shoulder, desperately wishing there was something he could do to make this easier, but he couldn't think of anything. He didn't want to suggest that Clint move - Clint knew Phil would rub his belly or do anything else to help, and after last time, Phil was pretty sure he'd ask now if there was anything he wanted. Clint's body started to tremble.

"Can't hold it."

Phil looked at the clock. Three minutes. Not ideal, but he wasn't about to try to encourage Clint to hold it longer when he was obviously in so much pain.

"OK, I'm going to come around and help you up. Just take it easy, and try to relax." Phil knew how stupid and pointless the words sounded. Of course Clint would try to relax, while clamping down on his anal sphincter...

Phil moved to the other side of the bed.

"OK, roll over towards me..."

Clint started to roll and screamed. Phil grabbed his arm, panicked.

"S'okay." Clint hissed out through clenched teeth. And then, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Inch by painful inch, Clint levered himself over on the bed, got his legs over the side, and let Phil help him sit up.

"Gotta go now," Clint said, and Phil draped one of Clint's arms across his shoulders and half-carried him to the bathroom.

Phil helped Clint onto the toilet and hovered until Clint hissed, "Out."

Phil gave Clint his privacy, but left the bathroom door open an inch and waited on the other side. He waited for the sounds that would tell him Clint was voiding, but they didn't come. He was about to call out when he heard a keening sound and thin call, "Phil?"

Phil was in the bathroom crouching down in front of Clint before he'd made a conscious decision to move.

"I'm here Clint, what is it, what's wrong?"

"I can't... it won't... hurts so much."

Clint was leaning forward with his arms wrapped around his distended abdomen, shaking.

"OK, don't try to force it. It's OK. I know what's wrong. I know what to do, just trust me, OK?" Clint nodded. "Put your hands on my shoulders and move with me, OK?" Clint was too miserable and in too much pain to do anything other than follow instructions, which made it easier for Phil to get him up off the toilet and standing. He pivoted them around.

"OK, I need you to step into the bathtub."

"Phil, I am not shitting in your bathtub."

"Dammit Clint there is nothing in your guts except gallons of chemicals. You know that. Hell, it'll probably get the stains off from that giant squid thing last year."

Clint grimaced.

"Fuck! Do not make me laugh."

"Sorry. Go on, step into the bathtub." This time Clint complied and a few seconds later they were standing face to face, Clint's hands still on Phil's shoulders, Phil's hands on Clint's waist, Clint in the tub and Phil standing outside of it.

"OK, now we're going to squat down. Move slowly and keep your knees as wide apart as you can."

Three-quarters of the way down, Clint's anal sphincter relaxed and the chemical solution came pouring out of him in a rush. Clint let out a relieved sigh and his body relaxed as it dropped the rest of the way into the squat, his ass hanging down between his ankles. 

"That's it, just relax. You're doing great." Phil urged Clint to lean forward and rest his head on Phil's shoulder, and he rubbed Clint's back in long gentle strokes. "OK? Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Let's wash this off then." As he reached over to turn on the taps, Phil checked the liquid in the tub carefully for any signs of blood. He didn't see any, the chemical mix was an odd shade of yellow. Once he got the water temperature adjusted, he said to Clint,

"We're going to stand up now, and I'm going to turn on the shower. Grab that bar if you need to. I'll be right with you." Once they were standing, Phil pulled the shower curtain closed and hit the lever for the shower. Then he quickly stripped off his sweats, t-shirt and underwear, and climbed into the shower with Clint.

Clint didn't seem to have moved, he was just standing there holding onto the grab-bar. Phil touched his shoulder and urged him to turn around so that they were facing each other, with Clint's back to the spray. Phil pulled Clint into his arms and held him.

"You OK?"

"Better now."

"Good. You know, I had a very different situation in mind when I thought about us showering together..."

"Yeah, me too."

"Phil? Why do you have a grab-bar in your shower?"

"Fury had someone install it the last time I got shot."

"Oh, right."

Phil picked up the soap and rubbed some lather onto Clint's lower back. Then he put the bar back down and massaged for a few seconds before letting his hands trail lower.

"Is this OK?"

"Yeah. Just... go easy. It's really sore."

"I will, just relax, OK?"

Clint leaned his head on Phil's shoulder and let Phil gently ease open his butt cheeks so that the water could rinse him clean.

"That feels kinda good, actually."

"Good. I'm glad."

Clint's dick, which had been hard again during the enema, brushed against Phil's thigh at half-mast and twitched.

"Do you want me to do anything about that?" Phil asked.

"No, thanks. I'm just going to ignore it, it'll go away. I'm too tired and sore."

"You ready to get out?"

"Sure."

Phil turned off the water and climbed out of the shower, then handed Clint a towel as he followed.

"Go lie down, I'll be right there."

Leaving his clothes and damp towel in a pile on the bathroom floor, Phil went to the kitchen for another bottle of Gatorade. Back in the bedroom, Clint was lying propped up on a couple of pillows.

"Here, try to drink as much of this as you can."

Clint swigged a third of the bottle while Phil was climbing onto the bed.

"Phil, I don't know if I can do that again," he said quietly.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep, and then we'll see how you feel, and we'll decide what to do, OK?"

"Yeah, I guess." Clint put the bottle on the bedside table and rolled over into Phil's waiting arms. He lay quietly for a few seconds, then his body started to tremble.

"Clint?"

"I'm OK, it's just... I'm so tired, and so sore, and..." Phil stroked his hair. Anybody else, himself included, would be sobbing like a baby right now, but not Clint Barton. Clint couldn't afford tears, Phil knew. Phil also knew that Clint had never before had someone to take care of him when he was sick, to hold him when he was hurting. 

"Shhh. It's going to be OK. Just relax and go to sleep. I'll be right here, it's OK." Phil murmured reassurances over and over until Clint's body stopped trembling and his breathing evened out.

Two-and-a-half hours later, Phil shook Clint by the shoulder to wake him. 

"Clint?"

"Fuck, already?"

"Sorry, yes. We need to decide what to do. Do you want me to take you back to Medical?"

"No... I..." Clint sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "It's better here, with you. We can't do this," he indicated the snuggling, "in SHIELD Medical."

"Well, we might be able to work something..." Phil started.

"No... thanks, but no. The problem is I really don't think I'm going to be able to hold another one. Not for long. But I know I need to for the stuff to work, and if it doesn't work, then there will just be more of this and..." Clint tensed up at the thought and Phil hugged him close and rubbed his back soothingly.

"I know something we could try, if you want."

"What?"

"I have a..." Phil blushed and cleared his throat, "butt-plug. If I put it in you when I take the nozzle out, you won't have to hold it, the plug will do that until we take it out. It will probably hurt going in, though, because of how sore you are. But you'd be able to relax and not worry about holding the enema, and we could leave it in for longer that way."

"You're sure it will work? To hold it I mean?"

"Yes."

Clint wanted to ask how Phil knew this stuff, but now wasn't the time. The next time they were stuck on a long, boring stake-out, however, Phillip J. Coulson had some explaining to do.

"OK, let's try that."

"You're sure?"

"If it will work, I can handle the pain. I just want this to be over with Phil."

"I know. OK, I'll get everything ready. You can go back to sleep for a few minutes if you want."

"Actually, I kinda need to piss."

"That's a good sign, it means you're not badly dehydrated, and it's a good idea - it'll be easier with an empty bladder. You go first, then I'll do the thing with the stuff."

Clint disappeared into the bathroom and Phil took the opportunity to root through his bottom drawer for the butt plug he was looking for. It was the smallest one he owned, an old one from when he had just gotten the courage to start playing with toys, shortly after he'd joined SHIELD. As he moved other things aside to look for it, he wondered if he would ever use any of the rest of this stuff with Clint. 'Maybe we need to get good and drunk together sometime soon so I can bring up the topic without blushing,' he thought as he found the plug he was looking for, and slid the drawer closed. Clint walked back into the bedroom.

"That's it huh?"

"Yeah, ever used one?"

"A few times. Mine's uh.... bigger than that." 

"Yes, well I have bigger ones too, but this one's better for what we're trying to do, considering how sore you are." 'So not having this conversation now,' thought Phil, and he was relieved when Clint shrugged and climbed back into bed.

"Be right in with the stuff."

"Yeah, take your time."

It didn't take Phil very long, however, he was getting good at mixing up the solution and filling the bucket. When he got back to the bedroom, Clint was already in position. Phil put everything in its place and picked up the bottle of lube. 'Good thing I stocked up after that first weekend, just in case we got more unexpected downtime.' Phil thought as he slicked up the nozzle, the butt plug, and his finger. 

Now that they were both used to the procedure, they communicated with fewer words and used small touches instead. Phil put his hand on Clint's thigh, and he spread his legs further apart, sinking down onto the towels that protected the bed sheets. Phil eased his finger in as gently as he could, and Clint simply accepted it despite the pain. He knew Phil was being as gentle as possible, Phil knew it hurt, there was nothing left to say.

Phil removed his finger and introduced the nozzle.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, look, Phil, just do it, OK? I can take it, and I want this to be over. So just do it."

"OK, but if anything weird happens, you let me know so I can stop."

"Don't worry, if anything weird happens, I'll yell."

Phil opened the clamp gradually nonetheless, but he let the solution flow faster and more steadily than he had previously. Clint breathed through the burning and the cramps, clenching the sheets in tight fists and gasping. It didn't take long for the bucket to empty. Phil closed the clamp.

"That's all of it. You're doing great. I'm going to take the nozzle out and put the plug in now. OK?"

"Do it." 

Phil eased the nozzle out and immediately started to insert the butt plug. It went easily until half-way, where the butt plug flared out wider than the enema nozzle. Clint gasped.

"Easy. Just breathe through it, it will only hurt for a minute." Phil pressed firmly, one part of him hating the fact that he was hurting Clint, another part knowing that this was easiest on him, and would hurt least in the long run. 

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." 

"It's OK. It's in. It's done." Phil settled the narrow base of the plug between Clint's ass cheeks, making sure that it was well seated and wouldn't slip out. "You can roll onto your back now if you want to."

Clint took a couple of deep breaths and started to move gingerly while Phil put away the equipment and joined him on the bed. Just as Clint was settling on his back, he gasped.

"Clint?"

"Just cramps."

Phil reached over and started to massage Clint's swollen abdomen.

"OK?"

"Yeah, feels good actually... the butt plug sure helps."

"Good." Phil saw that Clint was erect again, and he tried to avoid touching his dick as rubbed Clint's belly.

The solution sloshed and Clint groaned.

"Should I stop?"

"No... don't. Please. It feels good, your hands on me feel good, it's just the pressure, and the burning, and my dick..."

"Do you want me to get you off?"

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

"You'd have to take your hand off my belly and I'm not sure I want you to do that."

"I'm sure I can figure something out." Phil crawled over and settled himself between Clint's legs. He put both hands on Clint's belly and continued the massage, moving the solution around inside Clint so that it could do its job of dissolving the plastic in his guts. Clint's eyes drifted closed, and Phil lowered his head and licked a long stripe up the underside of Clint's erect dick.

"Fuck. Jesus fuck, Phil!"

"Is this OK?" Phil asked.

"Fuck yeah. Take my dick in your mouth and I'll go off in about three seconds."

"Is that what you want? Or do you want me to go slower than that?" If at least some part of this whole awful situation could feel nice for Clint, Phil wanted to do that for him.

"Just... don't tease me."

"I won't, love." Phil lowered his head, and licked the hard length twice more, and then swirled his tongue gently around the head of Clint's dick. Clint moaned, and Phil took the head in his mouth, but kept it open, trying to provide a warm wetness for Clint to fuck into, rather than any suction. Phil continued to massage Clint's belly, and Clint moaned again and this time gave a tiny thrust of his hips. Phil hoped Clint would understand that he should take whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, whatever felt good. Phil moved his hands, sliding them up to Clint's sensitive nipples and rubbing the pads of his fingers across the dark nubs. Clint gasped and jerked and came in Phil's mouth. Once Clint had stopped moving, Phil licked him clean and went back to massaging his belly.

"God, that was... Fuck. That was way better than it had any right to be. Fuck."

"Good. As soon as you're ready to move, we can head for the bathroom. You've held this for plenty long enough."

"OK, just give me a minute to catch my breath."

"Take all the time you need."

When Clint was ready to move he waddled to the bathroom.

"Let's just go straight for the tub, OK?" said Phil.

Clint nodded, past caring about propriety or embarrassment now. He let Phil position him and reach under him to take the plug out, breathing harshly through the pain of releasing it from his inflamed anus. He expelled the chemical stew that had been brewing in his guts, and Phil turned on the shower.

"Gonna join me again?"

"If you want me to."

"I..."

"Clint, it's OK to ask. It's always OK to for you to ask for things you want from me."

"It's gonna take me a while to get used to that. I've... I've never had someone take care of me because they wanted to. Barney did it because he had to, because he was older, but..."

"I know." Phil pulled Clint into a hug and stroked his hair.

"I love you Phil."

"And I love you. Now let's get cleaned up, and then we can go have another nap."

But when they were settled in bed again, Clint looked up at Phil.

"So, that wasn't too bad. I mean it still hurt like hell, but it was easier."

"Good."

"So one more and I'm done, huh?"

"Yes, and then we'll go back to SHIELD Medical and they'll do a scan to make sure all the polymer is out of your system."

"And if it is, that's it?"

"I guess so. The doctors didn't say anything about needing to do anything else."

Clint was quiet for a few minutes.

"Phil, after, when they let me out of Medical, I know you'll probably have to go back to work, but could I... could I maybe come back here for a bit?"

"Of course you can. And the only work I have that's important is finding out if Natasha has checked in, to see if she's made any progress on finding whoever did this to you."

"You sicced Nat on him? Her. Them. Whoever."

"More like I didn't try to stop her."

"Always a smart move."

"So I've noticed. Yes, you can come back here. I'll take a day, or two."

"You don't have to..."

"Clint."

"OK, yeah. Letting you take care of me. Got it." Clint grinned and snuggled in closer.

"Get some more sleep. I'll wake you when it's time."

Clint kissed fingers that were threaded through his, and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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